


Not a Cliché

by ReedBalloon



Category: Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:09:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9214331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReedBalloon/pseuds/ReedBalloon
Summary: “You've got feelings for Hollis?”“No. I’ve got potential feelings for Hollis. But I’m going to fight them. Because…”“You’re not a cliché.”“Exactly.”Lafontaine couldn’t help but laugh. “You are totally a cliché.”Carmilla is determined to not fall for the roommate that hates her. Apparently Laura didn't get the message.





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m not going to do it.”

Lafontaine looked up from the textbook they were reading as Carmilla barged into their room, falling onto their bed and putting her boots on their freshly washed covers.

“Ever heard of knocking?” they grumbled, pushing her feet onto the floor.

“Never took to it.”

“Not going to do what?”

“Become a cliché.”

Lafontaine raised an eyebrow. “You. The brooding, star loving, monochrome wearing philosophy major aren’t going to become a cliché?”

“Nope.”

She picked up the textbook, frowned in disgust, and threw it back.

“Not existential enough for you?”

“I’m having a real issue here.”

“Right. Sorry. Which cliché are you fighting?”

“I will not,” Carmilla sat up and stared hard at Laf, who was fighting a grin at her determination, “develop feelings for the roommate that hates me.”

Lafontaine sat back, letting the grin break out. “This is what this about?”

“I’m very unhappy with this development.”

“You’ve got feelings for Hollis?”

“No. I’ve got potential feelings for Hollis. But I’m going to fight them. Because…”

“You’re not a cliché.”

“Exactly.”

Carmilla flopped back down onto the bed, putting her feet back and letting out a long side.

Lafontaine couldn’t help but laugh. “You are totally a cliché.”

 //

It wasn’t like she had been expecting a banner. Or a party. Or anything resembling joy at her arrival and disturbing what she knew had once been a single room for a year but now had two occupants. She had been wary that her new roommate would not like this change and had been prepared for annoyance, that she would overcome with a friendly personality and a constant stream of baked goods.

She hadn’t expected the level of unwelcome she had received.

Her new roommate had looked her up and down, snorted and told her “If you stick you your business, I’ll stick to my business, and maybe we’ll get through this year without homicide.”

She was rude and snarky and Laura didn’t like Carmilla Karnstein one bit.

 //

It had been, if he was honest, almost too easy to make Laura hate her. It had spawned from annoyance at having her room invaded and become more of a routine than and actual choice.

Carmilla had never seen someone so small look at her with so much hatred before.

A chore wheel had been introduced, and made an excellent Frisbee as it sailed out the window. Clothes on the floor and hair in the shower had turned into Carmilla actively looking for ways to get Laura to turn to her with fury. It became almost therapeutic.

“Why are you like this?” Laura had asked her once. And it seemed like a genuine question. Like Laura couldn’t possibly understand why someone wouldn’t embrace chore wheel and nagging and disinfectant being sprayed in the bathroom incessantly.

Carmilla had just smirked over her book and gone back to tapping her foot against the wall. Laura had looked livid, and stalked from the room.

 //

“Why do you do that too her?”

Lafontaine sounded judgemental as they eyed Carmilla, who had just blatantly missed the bin while throwing away some paper. Laura had rolled her eyes, like it barely affected her, and left.

“It’s just so much fun.”

“Bullying?”

Carmilla huffed. “It’s not bullying. I’m not taking her lunch money or putting foam in her locker.”

“I don’t think any of that stuff actually happens.”

“What can I tell you, I was home schooled. But she makes this face. Like she’s gearing for a fight. And she’s so small.”

“You can be nice,” Lafontaine told her. Carmilla was insulted. “Why don’t you try doing that?”

“I’m not that nice.”

“You’re nice to me.”

“I could be nicer.”

“You’re nice to Perry.”

“That’s only as a consequence of being nice to you.”

“My point is,” Laf deflected a paper ball aimed at her head, “that you could try it.”

Carmilla sat up. “I would. I really would,” she said earnestly. “But it’s just so much fun.”

 //

“I hate her,” Laura told Betty, spearing her pancakes in the hope they would make her feel better.

“You’ve mentioned.”

“She’s awful.”

“You’ve said.” Betty knew Carmilla from Classic English, and had experienced her aloof attitude but had also been leant notes when she overslept and given a coffee when she couldn’t stop yawning, so knew that Carmilla wasn’t all bad. Not that she would say anything to Laura in fear the pancakes would soon become her hand.

“The worse thing is she knows it,” Laura sighed in defeat. “She knows she’s terrible. And she keeps on being terrible.”

“Why don’t you switch rooms?”

“Because then she’ll win.”

“Win what?”

“I don’t know. But she’ll win it.”

“Maybe if you…”

“You better not be about to suggest I talk to her.” Laura had fire in her eyes and Betty frantically back tracked.

“I take it you’ve tried that.”

“I just hate her.”

Betty mournfully took a bite of her own breakfast. “I know, Laura. I know.”

 //

The first time she had walked in on her with a girl Laura had turned around and walked straight back out again. The second time she had huffed irritable and left. The third and fourth times she hadn’t even opened the door the entire way before she slammed it shut again. The fifth time she had an exam the following day and needed to study.

“For god sake.” She threw her textbook onto the desk, causing whatever girl Carmilla had deemed worthy of her this week to jump and pull her top down. Carmilla had no such qualms, and smirked at Laura with her shirt still riding too high for Laura’s liking. “It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Didn’t realise there was a schedule to adhere to.”

“I have an exam.”

“We have a library.”

The girl jumped up and pulled on her coat. “I’ll go.” Carmilla sat up, sighing, but didn’t protest. The girl kissed her, made her promise to call, then left.

“You know if you got some action yourself you might not be this wound up.”

Laura ignored her and started reading her notes.

“Maybe try to go to a few parties once in a while,” Carmilla continued, unphased by Laura’s unresponsiveness.

“I go to plenty of parties.”

“I’ve never seen you.”

“That’s because you always your tongue don’t some girls throat.”

“That’s not the only place my tongue goes,” Carmilla said, then laughed when Laura groaned in disgust.

“Do you even know their names?”

“Crystal. Amber. Opal. Usually involved a gemstone. I think it’s a type.”

“So you don’t know.”

“I thought you were all progressive, and here you are judging me.”

“I’m not judging you.” Laura spun around the find Carmilla smirking at her. “I’m just not sure why you do it.”

“I told you. Works wonders for stress relief.”

Laura sighed and turned back. She didn’t care enough about Carmilla’s actions to press her for a proper answer she knew she was never going to get. “Whatever. Just maybe try throwing a sock on the door or something next time.”

 //

She had lost count of what girl Carmilla was on, but it had reached double digits and Laura had had enough. What Carmilla did was of no concern of hers, as long as it was done without effecting Laura too much.

“We need to talk.” The door slammed into the wall as Laura barged in, not even flinching at the sight of a girl with her head thrown back on Carmilla bed.

Carmilla looked up from her place between the girls legs. “Kind of in the middle of something here,” she quipped, then grinned at her own joke.

“I’m sure you’ll find another one somewhere.” Laura glared at the girl. “Leave.”

She did, red-faced with embarrassment and with empty promises from Carmilla that she would receive a call.

“If you work your way through them this fast you’re going to have none left for next semester.”

It was unfair, and bordering on cruel, and more judgmental than Laura prided herself on being, but she was sick of being an exile from her own room in the fear of what she would find.

Carmilla eyes hardened at the comment, and she stalked into the bathroom in the guise of getting cleaned up. Laura sat on the edge of her bed, aware she should apologise but equally aware that she wasn’t going to.

Carmilla emerged and sat on her own bed, facing Laura. “What did you want to talk about?”

“You know, I hate coming back here.” Carmilla’s wince was covered by her shifting further back up the bed. “And it’s because I either find you fucking some girl or have to put up with you being so terrible.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Wow. Say how you really feel.”

“And it’s not fair,” Laura continued, ignoring Carmilla. “Because it’s my room too. And I shouldn’t have to dread coming back.”

“I did your sock idea.”

“Throwing it at me when I come in doesn’t count.”

“What do you want from me, Laura. You want to braid each other’s hair and talk about boys?”

“I want you to stop being a bitch all the time. You can’t treat people like this, Carmilla. And I don’t know why you’re sad, but you can’t take it out on me.”

Carmilla looked up sharply and narrowed her eyes. “What makes you think I’m sad?”

“Happy people don’t screw three girls a week and hide every emotion with apathy.”

“That’s what you think I do?”

Laura nodded mutely. Carmilla looked away from her and at the wall, her eyes hard and her jaw clenched. When she spoke it was with a low voice.

“Well, thank you for your sound diagnosis, doctor. I can’t wait for your self-help book to hit the shelves.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“I’ll make easier for you and go.”

“You don’t have to…”

But Carmilla had already left and slammed the door. Laura flopped back on her bed.

 //

Perry found her on the roof with a bottle in her hand, and called Lafontaine because they were better at it then she was. She sat next to Carmilla and took the bottle, not attempting to speak as she knew she would get no answer. Carmilla didn’t move away, but actively relaxed when Lafontaine’s voice came from the stairs. Perry stood, touching Carmilla gently on the head before leaving, taking the bottle with her. Lafontaine took her place.

“You going to jump?”

“Not even sure I can stand.” Carmilla’s voice was slurred and her head was leaning back against the wall.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

“Laura said I was sad.”

Lafontaine waited to see if she would expand. “You are.”

“I know.”

“This isn’t the way.”

“I know.”

“Always call me.” The intensity of Laf’s voice made Carmilla look at her. “I’ll take you to drink somewhere that isn’t eleven stories high.”

Carmilla’s smile was sloppy. “I’m not going to jump.”

“I know.”

“I’m not that sad.”

Lafontaine didn’t say anything.

“Can I sleep at yours tonight?”

“Of course.”

“She really hates me.”

“Maybe you should give her a reason not to.”

Carmilla paused for a long time, like she was thinking about. She finally said “Nah,” and Laf snorted a laugh.

 //

Things had gotten strange. Carmilla wasn’t necessarily nice, but she wasn’t overtly mean. She was cordial. Didn’t go out of her way to show any sort of pleasantness, but also wasn’t unpleasant.

Laura felt off kilter, like something was being planned and she didn’t know what.

It took Carmilla handing her a tissue when she sneezed for her to snap.

“Okay you need to stop.”

Carmilla looked up from the book she was reading, a frown on her face. “I’m not doing anything.”

“That’s the problem?”

“What?”

“You’re being weird. Bordering on not terrible. And it’s been eight days since I walked in on you having sex so I’m assuming either period or STI.”

“Neither.”

“Then you’re just being weird.”

Carmilla sighed and marked her place before putting down her book. “Look, you were right okay. I was being terrible. I am terrible, it’s my thing. But you shouldn’t have to dread coming home. Everyone deserves somewhere to come to where they feel okay. Where they feel comfortable. I took that from you and I’m sorry.”

Laura didn’t know what to say, and Carmilla had picked up her book, apparently not needing her to say anything.

“Thank you,” she said finally.

Carmilla shook her head without looking up. “Not something you should have to thank me for.”

Laura wondered where it was that Carmilla felt comfortable. She wondered if someone had once taken it away from her.

 //

Carmilla was sad. That much Laura already knew. She could see it in her eyes, a constant undercurrent that seemed to hold weight. It was there when she read, when she typed essays and notes, when she sat looking at the stars late into the night. She smiled rarely, and when she did it was often without humour or at someone’s expense. Her speech was slow and formal, her voice so low that sometimes it could barely be heard.

Laura noticed all this because she found herself watching Carmilla. She’d never really known sadness. She had parents who loved and accepted her, always a loyal group of friends, always smart enough for prospects, kind enough to be liked. She’d had a girlfriend in high school and an amicable breakup. Bad days had happened, and friends had been fought with and pets lost, but she had never experienced the deep kind of sadness Carmilla does.

She wondered what it was that made her so sad, but knew that would never ask, and even if she did wouldn’t receive an answer.

When she saw her, in her sleep, with tears streaming and sobs caught, getting up and waking Carmilla hadn’t even been a decision that needed to be made. She pulled her from whatever dream was hurting her, and looked at her with concern, gripping onto her arms to tell her that was here, that she was okay.

Carmilla had just looked at her with glassy eyes, before pulling herself from Laura’s grip and turn to curl up against the wall. Laura had hesitated before going to her own bed, slipping into the covers and staring at Carmilla’s back.

They won’t speak of it ever. It would be like it didn’t happen.

Carmilla was rude and irritable and kind of terrible, but she hurting so much. And Laura had no way to fix it. But she promised herself that she would try.

 //

It took being drunk for Laura to finally ask. She’d gone to a party, drank whatever was handed to her by her friends, and danced with a pretty girl. She had returned home without the pretty girl, and knocked over a stack of books trying to sneakily get into the room.

A long groan made her freeze, worried Carmilla had got her own pretty girl, but the bedside lamp was turned on and Carmilla was alone. The glare she sent Laura’s way was somewhat diminished by her heavily lidded eyes.

“You have a lot of books,” Laura told her seriously, bending down to try and stack them again but almost falling over in her attempt.

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

“Not until late.”

She straightened up to try and regain her balance, but nearly fell backwards. Carmilla sighed as Laura braced herself against the wall to stay standing.

“At least I have the decency to sleep in someone else’s room when I get completely wasted.”

“That was a lot of words,” Laura said, frowning. “Too many words.”

“This is disturbing me.”

“I always disturb you.”

Laura decided that sitting on her bed was the safest option. At least if she fell it would be soft. She looked up to find Carmilla looking at her closely.

“That’s true.” Carmilla stood and Laura called her back.

“I’ll be quiet,” she said, running and imaginary zipper across her mouth. “Don’t leave. I promise.”

Carmilla smirked and shook her head. “I’m going to get you some water.”

“Oh.”

“What exactly did you drink?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Amateur.”

“I danced with a pretty girl.”

“Just dancing, huh?”

“She wasn’t as pretty as you.”

Carmilla froze in the doorway to the bathroom. She frowned at Laura, who was engrossed in trying to undo her shoes. Handing her the water, Carmilla bent down to take over.

“Drink the water.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

Laura over exaggerated drinking, and beamed when it made Carmilla smile.

“You’re going to have such a hangover,” Carmilla laughed as she threw Laura’s shoes in the general direction of the closet. She looked up from her kneeling position to find Laura watching her closely. “What?”

“Why are you sad?”

She stood up quickly and backed away from Laura. “You need to stop with that.”

“You shouldn’t be sad.”

“Oh well in that case I’m cured.”

“I don’t mean it like that.”

“I know.”

It almost looked like Laura was going to cry, and Carmilla didn’t want that. Laura deserved to be drunk and dance with pretty girls.

“Leave it, Laura.”

“Okay.”

“Think about the pretty girl.”

“She was really pretty.”

“Not as pretty as me though, huh?” Carmilla grinned. It faded when Laura looked at her seriously and shook her head.

“She kissed me.”

“Good for her.”

“I don’t know her name.”

“Good for you.”

“My head hurts.”

Carmilla laughed. “It’s going to hurt a lot more in the morning. Drink the water, Casanova. Get some sleep.”

She respectfully turned her back and went to refill the glass as Laura changed painstakingly slowly, turning around at the sound of Laura getting into bed. She placed the water on the floor near her bed. She was going to say something snide, maybe defuse this tension of doing something nice, but Laura was looking at her with soft eyes that were slightly glassy with alcohol. Instead she ran her thumb gently across her forehead, Laura’s eyes closing at her touch.

“Do you need an alarm?”

“Wake me before you go?”

“Okay.”

“One day,” Laura said, sleep starting to seep into her voice, “You’ll tell me why you’re sad.”

“Will I?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever you say, cupcake.”

In the morning it became another thing they didn’t walk about.

 //

“You’re a nerd.”

Carmilla looked up from her book to find Laura scrutinising her. An open laptop was on the desk, and no more of the word document was filled than an hour ago.

“Excuse me?” Carmilla said.

“Well, not a nerd so much. But you’re smart. Smarter than most people, right?”

“I like to think so.”

“I know nothing about history.” Laura spun on the desk chair so she faced the laptop. “And I don’t care. And not in an I can take it or leave it kind of way. I mean violently don’t care.”

“What are you studying?”

“Roman Principate.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“Did I mention I don’t care?”

“Would you like some help.”

“So kind of you to offer it.”

Carmilla smirked as she picked up Laura’s laptop and read what was already written.

“How many words do you need?”

“Three thousand.”

“You’ve got six hundred.”

“Hence my need for help.”

“You know I know nothing about the Roman Principate.”

“Well then we’ll be on the same page.”

Carmilla glanced up. Conversation without insults or Laura leaving in a huff were becoming more frequent, and it was make Carmilla itchy.

“Just because I’ve promised not to be so terrible doesn’t mean we’re friends now,” Carmilla reminded her.

“The fact you think not being an awful person is something that you need to promise in a friendship is worrying.”

“When’s this due?”

“Tomorrow.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. She was meant to be the lazy one in this arrangement, yet had all her essays due for the next month written already. “Hand me that book.”

“Which one?”

“The one on botany.”

“No need for sarcasm.”

“The one of the Roman Empire, of course.”

“It’s big.”

“The Empire?”

“The book.”

“Have you read it?”

Laura looked sheepishly at the front cover. “I looked at the pictures.”

“I will help you on the condition that you don’t complain about the state of bathroom for one month.”

“One week.”

“You are in no position to bargain.”

“Fine. Deal.”

“Okay. We’ll start with Augustus.”

“Who’s Augustus?”

“You had better be joking.”

 //

It took Carmilla to be missing for three nights before Laura started to get worried. Bouts of not seeing her were common, but it never more than two days and not usually in the middle of the week. She’d texted her, aware that their communication over text had been close to non-existent, and waiting until the evening to knock on Perry and Lafontaine’s door in the hope they knew where she was.

“Carmilla’s missing,” she announced when Perry opened the door. She was hoping to be less dramatic than that, but decided to roll with it. “I don’t know where she is.”

Perry didn’t look overly concerned, just sighed and called gently for Laf, who appeared at the door.

“What’s up, Hollis?”

“Carmilla’s missing,” Perry told them. Laf sighed similar to Perry did. Laura didn’t know if this was common or they just weren’t taking it as seriously as her.

“How long for?” they asked Laura. Perry gestured for her come inside as Laf started pulling on shoes.

“Four days now.”

Lafontaine nodded. “Okay. Don’t worry too much, Laura.”

“I’m not.” She was. “It’s just weird. She’s never gone for this long.”

“I’ll find her,” Laf promised. They took out their phone and started texting as they left the room, giving Perry and Laura comforting grips on the shoulder.

“You’re welcome to stay here while they look,” Perry told her.

“Thanks.”

“She does this sometimes.” Perry sat on her bad and Laura took Laf’s. “Drops off the radar for a few days without telling anyone.”

“Do you know why?” Perry’s hesitation told Laura that she did, but she didn’t push it. “Where does she go?”

Perry shrugged. “She won’t stray too far. She drove out once for about two days and it took us a week to find her. Lafontaine shouted at her for an hour and a half. Didn’t talk to her for a month. Carmilla knows that eventually someone will come and look for her, and its best for everyone if she’s found.”

“Is she…” Laura didn’t know how to phrase it. “Will she do anything stupid?”

“No,” Perry said with conviction. “It’s not like that. I think she feels claustrophobic sometimes. She needs to not be around anything for a while. It’s okay. It happens.”

“I thought she was just avoiding me. Or going back to girl’s places instead of bringing them to ours. I should have said something sooner.”

Perry shook her head. “You didn’t know.”

“God, if something happens.”

“It won’t.” The conviction was still there, and Laura felt a little better. “How are things between you two?”

Lafontaine had told Perry, between bouts of laughter, about Carmilla’s developing crush. Perry knew it had the potential to be something good, but the equal amount of potential to be something very bad.

“I don’t know,” Laura admitted. “We don’t talk much. Which I suppose is better than the bickering. And sometimes I feel like we could be friends. Or close to friends. But then she does or says something and I remember what an ass she is. Sorry.” Laura glanced up guiltily. “I know she’s your friend.”

“And I know she’s an ass,” Perry smiled.

“I guess we’re making progress. I don’t mind going back to the room now.”

“That’s good, I suppose.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“It won’t.”

 //

A few hours later and Laura returned to her own room. She was in bed but not asleep when she heard gentle murmuring from outside the door, and recognised Carmilla’s low voice. She was talking to Laf, and the voices soon faded as Carmilla gently opened the door, grimacing when she saw Laura was awake. She looked at the floor sheepishly as she closed it behind her.

Laura was up and hugging her before she could think about it, even though that wasn’t something they did. Carmilla was surprised and took a moment to return it.

“I was worried,” Laura confessed.

“I’m sorry.”

Laura pulled back and stepped away. “You look freezing.”

“I was outside.”

“All this time?”

Carmilla shrugged. She was pale and tired and wanted Laura to stop looking at her like a long lost puppy that had just returned home. Avoiding her roommate’s eyes, she pulled on a hoodie near her bed and sat down. Laura moved to the kettle and started making hot chocolate. Neither said anything for as long as it took her to hand Carmilla one of the mugs and sit on her own bed.

“I was worried,” Laura reiterated.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Next time you plan on falling of the map can you give me a heads up?” She wanted to defuse whatever tension Carmilla had brought with her but it didn’t work. Carmilla smelled faintly of alcohol but spoke coherent enough. “Where did you go?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Where did you sleep?”

“Cupcake, stop.”

“I care, okay.”

“No one asked you to,” Carmilla snapped. Her fist was closed and her hand holding the mug was trembling. She gently put it down before she spilled anything.

“People care about people in their lives,” said Laura quietly. “It’s a thing actual humans do.”

“You need to stop.” Carmilla closed her eyes and huddled into the hoodie. It was the one that was slightly too big for her, with the number and name on the back that Laura knew didn’t belong to Carmilla.

“Whose hoodie is that?” Laura asked.

“So many questions with you?”

“Carmilla.”

“My girlfriend’s.” She laughed then, bitterly. “Ex-girlfriend’s.”

Apparently not even Carmilla Karnstein could hide a broken heart behind apathy. She started to struggle with her shoes until Laura let out a sigh and went to help her. Carmilla sat back and didn’t protest as her boots were pulled off.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” she said finally.

“Don’t do it again.”

“Can’t promise you that, cutie.”

“At least.” Laura sat back on her bed after placing Carmilla’s boots next to each other on the floor. “Tell me you’re safe.”

“I’m safe.”

Laura nodded. She lay down and pulled the covers over her, facing away from Carmilla. She heard rustling and footsteps as Carmilla got ready for bed in the bathroom, closing her eyes when she emerged. She tried to wait until Carmilla’s breathing evened out to indicate sleep before she let herself drift off, but sleep overtook her and she uneasily sank into it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“This has gone too far.”

Laf sighed. They didn’t know why they bothered closing the door when Carmilla would so often just fling it open.

“What now?”

“I remember when you used to be a supportive friend.”

“I remember when I used to care about your problems.”

“She’s hugging me now.”

“Who?”

“You know very well who.” Laf grinned and Carmilla sunk onto their bed. “Since when did we hug is what I want to know.”

“Isn’t this what you want? To hug her, and kiss her, and hold her nice and close.”

Laf dodged a pillow thrown their way. “She smells of cinnamon,” Carmilla sighed, causing Lafontaine to start laughing. “I knew I shouldn’t have started being nice to her.”

Lafontaine’s laughter only increased as Carmilla covered her eyes.

“This is nice. I like seeing you pining.”

“You’re the worst.”

“You should tell her how you feel.

“That is disgusting advice.”

“I don’t think she hates you too much anymore.”

“Wow.” Carmilla threw her arms up dramatically. “In that case let me grab the candles and Sinatra cds.”

“That’s how you’d woo a girl?”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “I don’t go on many dates anymore.”

“Just slows you down, huh.”

Carmilla regretted throwing the second pillow when she laid back and had nothing to lie on.

//

Carmilla stared at the umbrella with distain. She wasn’t going to do it. The rain was pounding on the windows of her dorm room, Laura was at class, and Laura’s umbrella was on her bed. And she wasn’t going to do it. Class was ten minutes away. Five at a jog. She wasn’t going to do it.

She snatched the umbrella up with pure hatred and threw her hood up as she exited the building. She hated herself so much at that moment.

Laura’s class was letting out just as she arrived. Hoods were drawn and coats pulled on, and Carmilla saw Laura looking frantic in only a sweater. She sighed in resignation and was about to step out when Carmilla grabbed her wrist.

“Here.” She almost winded Laura thrusting the umbrella at her. “Maybe pick up a weather report once in a while.”

“You brought my umbrella?”

“You forgot it.”

“You’re soaking.”

“Rain does that.”

“But why didn’t you use the umbrella.”

Carmilla scoffed. “I’m too cool for an umbrella.”

Laura observed Carmilla with the ends of her hair wet and bedraggled and the eyeliner she perpetually wore beginning to smudge. “You’ve looked cooler.”

Carmilla scowled. “I haven’t heard a thank you yet.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t be gross.”

Carmilla walked away and Laura put the umbrella up before hastening after her. She tried to shield her from the rain but Carmilla rolled her eyes and sidestepped so she was in the downpour.

“Cool people don’t use umbrella’s, cutie.”

“But they walk ten minutes in the rain to bring them to their roommate?” Laura said with a grin. “Did you break something and trying to butter me up before I see it?”

Carmilla gasped in mock offence. “I can be nice, you know.”

“I know.” Laura was still grinning. “I’m just not used to it.”

“Good.”

Carmilla sped up and Laura trailed after her, confused but happy.

 //

“You know,” said Betty conversationally, “we’ve been here for about twenty minutes now and you haven’t complained about Karnstein once. This must be some kind of record.”

Laura shrugged, engrossed in her eggs.

“So you’re friends now?” Betty asked.

“I wouldn’t say friends.” Laura shovelled more breakfast. “We’re not not friends. Friends adjacent, maybe.”

“That’s quite a leap from hoping she gets eaten by something really big.”

Laura blushed. “I never said that.”

“Twice.”

“Yeah, well. We’re…” Laura didn’t know what they were. Certainly not friends. But she didn’t hate Carmilla as much anymore. Not even slightly. “I don’t know. We’re getting along now. Leave it at that.”

“Speak of the devil.”

When Laura looked up and past Betty she saw Carmilla outside the diner. She was in a winter coat, still quite thin because she was too cool for parkas, and talking to a tall woman. It took a moment for Laura to recognise her.

“Is that the Dean?” she hissed, ducking her head. Betty watched her with a frown. “She scares me,” Laura explained. The Dean reached out and cupped Carmilla’s cheek, and Laura frowned. “That’s weird. That’s weird, right.”

Betty looked behind her. “It’s her mother.”

“What?” Laura’s fork crashed onto her plate. She checked to see if Carmilla or the Dean heard, even though they were outside. “Her mother?”

“How do you not know this? You live with her.”

“We don’t exactly talk.”

“It’s not a secret. Don’t you want to be a journalist?”

Laura shrugged. The Dean was still touching Carmilla’s cheek, and Laura could see some discomfort written on her roommates face, but she didn’t pull away. “I can’t believe she never told me.”

“You just said that you two don’t talk.”

“Still.  Oh god I’ve insulted her mother so much.” Laura hid her face in her hands. Betty just laughed.

“Trust me, can’t be any worse than what Carmilla says about her.”

Laura peaked through her fingers. The Dean had dropped her hand and was still talking. Carmilla’s line of sight was focused on the ground. Her face looked calm but her fists were clenched.

“Can’t be easy,” she said quietly.

“Huh?”

“Having the Dean as a mom. Must be difficult.”

“I would say so.”

“How come she talks to me and not you?”

“I’ve never thrown a spatula at her.”

Laura coloured again. “That was one time.” Carmilla had a way of bringing out an aggressive side of Laura she didn’t even know she had. “And I missed.”

The Dean was finally turning away and Carmilla was left standing. Laura was debating whether to go outside when Carmilla started to head into the diner.

“She’s coming.” Laura was aware there was nothing to duck behind but did it anyway. “Hopefully she doesn’t see us.”

“Make sure to stay down. Karnstein!” Betty waved to Carmilla, who was ordering something. She grinned when Laura kicked her under the table.

“Spielsdorf.” Carmilla came over. She smirked at Laura, who had straightened up quickly. “Hollis.”

“Hi. Hey. Didn’t see you there.”

“Right,” Carmilla sniggered. “Is that a vegetable?” She nodded at Laura’s plate.

“Avocado.”

“Are you ill?”

“I’m trying to eat healthier.”

“Probably wise.” She turned her attention back to Betty. “We still on for later?”

“Do bears shit in the woods?”

“That’s the spirit.” Her name was called from the counter. “Best be off. Spielsdorf.” She winked at Laura. “Cutie.”

Laura waved awkwardly with her fork. Betty was beaming. “What was that?” she asked once Carmilla has left.

Laura shrugged. “Civility?”

“That was flirting.”

“Was not.”

“How have you got Karnstein to flirt with you? You have absolutely no game.”

“I have some game.”

“You do not.”

“That wasn’t flirting.”

Betty snorted, but held up her hands in defeat. “Whatever you say, Hollis.”

Laura went back to her breakfast. That definitely wasn’t flirting. It was just Carmilla being herself.

“What’s later?” she asked. She rolled her eyes when she saw Betty was still grinning.

“Party at Kirsch’s. You should come along.”

“No.”

“It will be fun.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Yeah,” Betty said, “you are.”

//

If Carmilla had known the night would end with Laura’s arms around her shoulders and her lips pressed against her neck, she wouldn’t have gone to the party.

“You’re warm,” Laura told her, her voice muffled from her face being pressed in the crook of Carmilla’s neck. “And I’m drunk.”

Carmilla sighed heavily. Supporting a drunk Laura home was not high on her list of things she wanted to do. The girl was having trouble walking, and a casual “just hold onto me” had prompted Laura to fling her arms around Carmilla’s neck and jump on her back.

“We should’ve stayed,” Laura said, not for the first time.

“How many fingers are on your hand?”

Laura momentarily let go to stare at her hand. “Seven,” she answered confidently.

Carmilla chuckled and hoisted Laura higher. “Nearly home. Don’t fall asleep, okay.”

“Okay.” Laura rested her chin against the top of Carmilla’s head. “You’re doing something nice again.”

“Shush. Don’t go spreading that around.”

They arrived at the dorm and Carmilla dropped Laura onto her bed, apologising casually as her head bounced off the headboard.

“Why aren’t you drunk?” Laura asked her.

“Practice.”

“How much did you drink?”

“About twice as much as you.” That Laura was a lightweight didn’t surprise Carmilla too much. “You going to get ready for bed or just lie there?”

“The rooms tilting.”

“You’re falling on your side.”

“Oh.”

Carmilla found some of Laura’s sleep clothes and placed them on the bed. She knelt down to take off her shoes.

“Are you proposing?” Laura asked seriously. Carmilla laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me the Dean was your mother?”

Sighing, Carmilla threw Laura’s shoes into the corner. Since she saw her at the diner she had been expecting that question.

“You didn’t ask.”

“I’ve said bad things about her.”

“You’ve said bad things about me too. I just let it wash right off.”

“She’s your mother.”

“And I agree with most of the bad things you’ve said.”

“It must be hard,” Laura said in a low voice. Her eyes were earnest, but still slightly glassy. Carmilla clenched her jaw as she stood up.

“Why do we have these conversations when you’re drunk?”

“Because you’re hard to talk too when I’m not.”

“Get dressed.” Carmilla threw the clothes she gotten at her. “I’ll get you some water.”

In the bathroom Carmilla leant against the sink. The sounds of Laura struggling to figure out how clothing worked channelled through the closed door, but Carmilla was damned if she was going to go out and help her.

She looked at the hoodie she had taken for a moment before pulling it on, tugging the sleeves down so they covered her hands.

“Laura,” she called gently. “Did you win against the clothes?”

Snoring was her answer. She came out the bathroom to find Laura sprawled with the duvet covering her legs. Carmilla stared at the ceiling in attempted defiance before buckling and pulling the covers up to her chin. She placed the water by her bed.

//

Laura stared at the sock on the door, trying to work out if she could legitimise getting angry. On the one hand, Carmilla had adhered to the sock rule. On the other hand, Laura had a test tomorrow, which Carmilla knew about, and really needed to study.

She flung open the door, leaving a long enough gap for clothes to be pulled on in a hurry, and marched in.

Carmilla let out a long suffering sigh, like she was the one being severely inconvenienced.

“I did the sock.”

The girl was hastily pulling on trousers and smiling at Laura, half apologetic and half embarrassed. Laura wanted to tell her it was okay, she’d seen enough half naked girls from Carmilla’s side of the room that it barely even registered anymore.

“I have an exam.”

“I swear there’s this building somewhere with books and computers and quiet areas where one can study.”

“I study better here.”

“It’s fine,” the now fully dressed girl said quickly. “I’ll go.” A kiss and a promise and she was out the door.

“You’re really affecting my sex life, I want you to know that.”

“I want very little to do with your sex life.”

“If you had one of your own maybe you wouldn’t keep disturbing mine.”

Laura bit back any reply that might come off as judgmental and hurtful. Carmilla snorted like she’d won.

“I thought we’d got past this,” she sighed.

“What?” asked Carmilla innocently.

“You being you.”

“I did the damn sock.”

“You knew I had an exam.”

Carmilla fell back onto the bed. “I don’t know what you expect from me.”

“For you to maybe act like a normal human for a few weeks at a time.”

“I’m telling you, a bit of a sex life would really calm you down.”

“Stop.”

“Too personal? Isn’t that what roommates do? When should we move onto braiding hair?”

“Could you just…” Laura closed her eyes. Her exam was in eleven hours and she wanted at least five of those to sleep. “Be quiet or leave. I don’t mind which one.”

“What if I’m loud and I stay?”

Laura slammed her book shut and turned around on her chair. Carmilla raised an eyebrow from her place on the bed. “I don’t get you. One week you’re bringing me umbrellas and making sure I get home okay, and next you’re acting as though I’m the bane of your existence.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you. I don’t care about an overbearing mother or an ex-girlfriend you’re still in love with. They aren’t excuses for acting like this.” Carmilla’s eyes hardened significantly and she sat up straight. Her eyes were dangerous as they bore into Laura.

“What was that?”

“You’ve got issues with your mom. That’s easy to see. And people don’t keep the hoodies of girlfriends they’re over. I’m not surprised she broke up with you if this is the way you act.”

Carmilla stood up slowly, fists tight. “You don’t know a damn thing, Laura.” The quiet voice was almost worse than if she had been shouting. The door slammed behind her and Laura knew she was going to get no studying done.

//

Perry answered when Laura knocked, and frowned when she saw how meek the girl looked.

“Laura?”

“Carmilla’s gone again.”

Lafontaine appeared at the door looking equally confused. “I saw her yesterday. She can’t have been gone for long.”

Laura shook her head. “Since last night. But we got into an argument. I said some stupid things. I went to look for her but I can’t find her anywhere.”

Perry stepped back to let her as Lafontaine grabbed her phone. “She might just be with someone,” they tried to placate a guilty looking Laura. “What exactly did you say?”

“About her mom. And her ex.” Lafontaine and Perry both froze and looked at her sharply.

“Her what?”

“Which ever ex-girlfriend that hoodie she always wears belongs to. She obviously still hung up. I said it’s no wonder she broke up with her. I know,” She wanted them to stop looking at her like she’d sentenced Carmilla to hanging. “It was bad of me. I didn’t mean it.”

Lafontaine looked far more panic stricken than they had a moment ago. They looked at Perry, who put her hand up to indicate calm.

“Did she say that they had broken up?”

Laura shrugged. “I just assumed.”

Laf had forgone the phone and was pulling on shows. They looked close to anger.

“Laf, what…”

“Her girlfriend didn’t break up with her, Laura.” Perry calmly intercepted whatever Lafontaine was about to say. “She died.”

Laura felt her breath leave her and she sat down heavily. “She died?”

“Yeah.” Lafontaine ran their hand through their hair. “Three years ago. Look, it’s not our story to tell, but yeah. She had the same girlfriend since she was fourteen, and then she died. That does something to a person.”

She didn’t think it was possible to feel this bad. Guilt and sympathy was swirling and Laura felt sick. The hoodie, the girls, the heartbreak, Laura hadn’t even considered what else it could be.

She heard Laf tell Perry they was going to look and leave, and jumped as Perry sat down next to her.

“Lafontaine and I knew Carmilla when she was with Ell,” Perry said calmly. “I didn’t really like her then, but Lafontaine was very fond, so we had a lot to do with them both. Carmilla changed after Ell. She grieved, and she acted out, and she got help and then got better. Sometimes it seems like she’s completely okay, sometimes it seems like she’s going to fall apart any moment.”

“And I said…” Laura buried her face in her hands. She felt like crying.

“You didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“Lafontaine will find her. I meant what I said about her not doing something stupid.”

“I just wish she knew she could talk to me.”

“She doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“I feel sick.”

“You should probably go back to your room, in case she returns. I can come with you.”

Laura shook her head. “It’s okay. Stay here for Laf. Let me know if they tell you anything?”

“Of course.”

//

The bottle was nearly empty and still Carmilla didn’t feel better. Getting drunk off cheap wine on a roof wasn’t one of her classiest moments. She drained the remaining liquid and leant her head back against the wall. She had found the girl Laura had disturbed, gone back to her place, then grabbed as much wine as she could carry and went to the roof, waiting for the inevitable arrival of Laf or Perry.

It was the former, which made it more tolerable, and Carmilla closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see the pity in Laf’s.

They took a seat next to her and the now empty bottle was taken from her hands.

“I have another one if you want some.” Carmilla held up the wine and shook it.

“I’m good.” But it was taken from her anyway and placed out of reach. “Where did you go?” That question was forbidden, and that Laf was asking it made Carmilla wonder what Laura had told them.

“Sarah’s. Sandra’s. Not completely sure of her name.”

“Dark and broody type forgets girls names. Still not being a cliché?”

Carmilla opened her eyes, worried that if she kept them closed she would pass out. Laf looked slightly red.

“Did you run?”

They shrugged. “Wanted to find you.”

“I’m seriously not gonna jump.”

“I know that.”

“Can I have the wine back?”

“What do you think?”

A coat was thrust into her hands, but Carmilla pushed it away.

“I have all the insulation I need.”

“Alcohol doesn’t count.”

“Can we just skip to the bit when you tell me it will all be better and drag me back?”

“I don’t think it’s all going to be better.”

Carmilla laughed without humour and leant her head back. “You used to be supportive.”

“Laura told us what she said.” Carmilla closed her eyes tightly and willed away the rush of nausea and the pounding of her heart. “We told her about Ell.”

“What?” Carmilla rounded on Laf. “You had no right.”

“She said something stupid. We wanted to make sure she wouldn’t carry on saying something stupid.”

“That’s not your… you had no right.”

If Carmilla could sufficiently stand she would have stormed off, as it was she glared instead.

“Well you were never going to tell her.”

“How do you tell the girl you’re crushing on that the love of your life was killed?”

“I don’t know,” Laf told her. “And I don’t know how you handle it. But this isn’t the way.”

“Yeah? What is the way, Laf?”

“Not alone, for starters. Not by treating her the way you do. Look, I’m not condemning you, here,” they tried to reassure her as Carmilla turned away, “but that girl sees sunshine in everything. There are worse people for you to talk to.”

“You think I should start treating Laura as my therapist?”

“Or friend, maybe. You won’t talk to us.”

“That’s not…”

“I get it.” Lafontaine cut her off. “It’s okay. Me and Perry. We’re too close to it. There’s a before and there’s an after. You need an after.”

“I’m not spilling my deepest darkest thought to her,” Carmilla promised.

“That’s good. Don’t want to give the girl nightmares.” Laf grinned when Carmilla’s lips twitched. “But it might not be worse thing in the world giving friendship a shot. No matter how much fun you have bullying her.”

“Not bullying.”

“Carmilla.”

Carmilla hummed. “I’ll consider it.”

“All I’m asking.”

They stayed in silence for a while.

“What did Laura say?” Carmilla asked quietly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed guilt as a tangible emotion before.”

“Great. Just what I wanted.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“There’s the speech.”

“I said fine. It won’t be better.”

“You’re terrible at talking someone off a ledge.”

“You have to make it better.”

“And you think Laura’s the way?”

“I do.”

“I don’t want to use her as something to throw my emotions at and hope they come back cured.”

“So don’t.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Solid advice. Thanks, Laf. What would I do without you?”

//

When she heard the door opening the next morning, Laura tried to pretend she hadn’t been pacing. She’d received a call last night from Lafontaine, telling her that Carmilla was okay and staying in their room that night.

“She hates me. I’m so sorry,” Laura bemoaned.

“She doesn’t hate you, Laura,” Laf assured her. “Trust me on that.”

Standing still as Carmilla slowly entered, Laura wanted to hug her but didn’t know how angry Carmilla would be.

Anger would have been better than the dark circles under eyes and frown on her face.

She rolled her eyes when she saw Laura dithering by her bed, unsure of what to do.

“It’s okay.” Carmilla stepped further into the room and closed the door. “We’re okay.”

Laura arms were thrown around her and she staggered backwards. Her face was pressed into her neck and she was crying, which did nothing to dispel the morbid feeling in Carmilla’s stomach.

“I’m so sorry.” Laura’s voice was muffled.

“You didn’t know.”

“I still shouldn’t have said it.”

Carmilla pushed Laura gently back. “If we’re going to start apologising for things then I should probably start soon or we’ll be here a while.”

Laura shook her head. “I should have been more sensitive.”

“Don’t use this to excuse me, cupcake,” Carmilla sighed, running a hand through her hair. She was tired and sad. “Can we just forget this happened?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I don’t like talking about it.”

“I get that. But I’m here. If you ever did.” Carmilla just nodded. “You look tired.” Another nod. “Sleep. I’m sure class can wait.”

Carmilla looked at her for a moment, and Laura wasn’t sure what she was thinking. She stepped forward and enveloped Laura in a hug that surprised her so much it took a moment to return.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” Carmilla said, “And I can’t promise I won’t still be an ass. But don’t let me off, okay.”

“Okay,” Laura said quietly, like she worried speaking too loud would make Carmilla bolt.

“I’m blaming that on the tiredness.” Carmilla released her quickly and stepped back.

Laura beamed. “Sure.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I promise not to bring up that you totally just initiated a hug with me.” Carmilla rolled her eyes and stalked into the bathroom. “I mean it,” Laura shouted through the bathroom door. “I won’t tell a soul that you, Carmilla Karnstein, hugged me, Laura Hollis, voluntarily and of your own volition.”

//

“Why do you drink?”

“To drown my sorrows?”

Carmilla scoffed. “You have sorrows?”

Laura leant against her as she walked them back to their dorm. Carmilla had found Laura at the party standing dangerously close to a pond and dragged her away. By Laura’s inability to focus on her Carmilla had assumed she was far into the festivities. Laura had nodded mournfully when asked if she wanted to leave.

“I can have sorrows.”

“Worries, maybe. You’re not edgy enough for sorrows.”

“Can I have a piggy back?”

“No. You got my jacket muddy last time.”

“Last time?”

Carmilla was unsure whether Laura forgot their drunken talks or just didn’t remember them. She ignored the part of her that was hurt it was the latter.

“You remember how to walk, right?”

“I think so. Is left then right, or right then left?” Laura asked genuinely.

Carmilla grinned broadly. “Which is your favourite?”

“Right left, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Are we home yet?”

“Nearly.”

“Are you ever drunk?”

Carmilla laughed. “Yes. But I get drunk alone on rooftops like an adult.”

Laura became suddenly silent, and Carmilla was worried she’d pushed something. They’d avoided talking about Carmilla leaving, which suited Carmilla fine, but may not be the healthiest way of dealing with it.

She thought back to what Lafontaine had said, about Laura being a good person to talk to. But Laura was sunshine and puppies and seeing the best in people. Carmilla couldn’t, in all good conscience, drag that spark away from the girl.

“You shouldn’t,” said Laura, so quietly that Carmilla wouldn’t have heard if her head wasn’t lolling against her shoulder.

Carmilla heaved a sigh. This was the thing she was trying to avoid.

“Do you want that piggy back?”

Laura instantly perked up. “Really?”

“Keep your shoes off my jacket.”

Laura nodded earnestly, throwing her arms around Carmilla.

“Other way, Laura.”

“Right.” She moved to her back. They were silent for a moment as Carmilla walked, but Laura soon broke it. “Has anyone ever told you your pretty?”

“Yes,” said Carmilla. “Frequently.”

“I don’t just mean to look at.” Laura’s eyes were closed and her forehead was pressed into Carmilla’s neck. “I mean. I don’t know what I mean. Just pretty.”

“You need to work on your stamina.”

“This isn’t alcohol. Okay it is alcohol. But I mean it. You’re so sad. And so pretty. And I want to make things better.”

“You can’t.”

“I can try.”

“It’s just going to make you sad too.”

Laura shook her head, tickling the back of Carmilla’s neck. They’d made it to the dorm and Carmilla carefully put Laura down before opening the door. She knelt down to help Laura with her shoes after she sat on her bed.

“We have a tradition,” she giggled. Carmilla shook her head, but smirked as she aimed the shoes in the vague direction of the cupboard.

“You get drunk and I undress you?”

Carmilla went to get water. Laura was already under the covers by the time she returned.

“Tell me how to make things better and I will,” Laura said. She was looking at her far too intently, and Carmilla avoided her eyes.

“Doesn’t work like that, cutie. But just carry on being you, huh?”

Laura managed an impressive eye roll despite her inebriation. “Who else would I be?”

//

“You bake?"

"Jesus, Laura." Carmilla jumped as Laura appeared in the kitchen behind her. She looked offended, at a personal level, that Carmilla didn't divulge this information. "How did you find this?"

"It’s a community kitchen."

"I didn’t think you knew what an oven was."

"It’s late."

"I knew it would be empty."

"What are you baking?"

"If I tell you do you promise not to laugh?"

"No."

"Lemon drizzle.”

Laura grinned, thrilled by this news. "You don't seem like the type to bake."

"Yeah well." Carmilla picked up the bowl she had dropped when Laura scared her. "Don’t go spreading it around."

"You really are just pretending to be all broody and mysterious, right."

"Broody people can bake."

"Can I help?" Laura pulled herself up to sit on the counter.

Carmilla looked at her for a long moment like she was considering it.

"I'm not sure."

Laura rolled her eyes. "I can cook."

"This is baking. It’s much different.”

"Give me something easy."

"Blasphemy."

"Carm," Laura laughed. "Come on."

"Fine." Carmilla relented. "Icing."

"How do I do that?"

"Follow the packet."

Laura looked at her until Carmilla sighed and handed her the box and a bowl. "Waters in the sink. Think you can handle that?"

Laura grinned. "What made you start to bake?"

"Ell always did it. Eventually I gave in and started helping."

She side eyed Laura, who had frozen whilst pouting icing sugar into the bowl.

"We can mention it," Carmilla said gently. "I don't mind."

"Okay."

"Let’s not make it a habit."

"Right."

"But we can."

Laura nodded. "She baked?"

"Like being with Martha Stuart. Afterwards it just became a way to feel normal again."

Laura didn't know what to say, so just smiled a Carmilla, who returned it.

"Am I doing this right?" she asked.

"Stirring water into icing sugar. Yeah, you're doing great."

"Are you any good?"

Carmilla turned to her in outrage. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just asking." Laura laughed at how offended Carmilla was.

"I'm not just good, Laura."

"No?"

"I'm not saying this will be the best lemon drizzle you've ever tasted."

"I've tasted some pretty good ones."

"But it will be right up there."

"Can't wait."

Laura watched Carmilla pour the mixture into two trays and put them into the oven. She kicked it closed and turned to face Laura.

"How’s the consistency?" She grinned at Carmilla's eye roll as she lifted the fork and let the icing fall.

"Add some zest."

"Look at you with the fancy terms."

Laura caught the lemon thrown at her. She grated the skin, glancing up at Carmilla as she did.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Watch your fingers."

"You seem happy," Laura said. "Well, not happy. Just. Less sad."

Carmilla shrugged. She turned her attention to the icing to avoid looking at Laura.

"Baking," she said quietly.

"Makes you feel better."

Carmilla nodded. "Not just the baking."

"Yeah?"

"I like the night time."

"Such a philosophy major."

"And you're not too bad, either," Carmilla threw spoons into the sink. "Terrible at icing."

"Hey!"

"But as company goes. I could have worse."

Laura was quiet for so long Carmilla had no choice but to look at her. She had a dopey smile on her face and was poised in that way that suggested a hug.

Carmilla gestured to the sink with a tea towel to avoid. "Help me wash."

"I used one bowl."

"I thought you wanted to make things better for me."

"That's mean."

"This would make things better for me."

//

The pile of notecards Laura thrust at her took two hands to gold.

“This is extensive.”

“You said you’d help. I didn’t study because I was looking for you.”

“That was before I found out you were studying a small anthology.”

“I want to be prepared.”

Carmilla flipped over a card. “You don’t need to be this prepared.”

“They might ask.”

“Claudius’s favourite colour?”

“Purple.”

“Why is it a card if you know it?”

Laura shrugged and dived onto the bed next to her. She pulled a pillow onto her lap and faced Carmilla.

“We have seven hours.”

“Oh god.”

“Quiz me.”


	3. Chapter 3

Laura wondered how long you could watch someone sleep until it became stalker behaviour. She had been watching Carmilla for fifteen minutes now, and felt she may have been passed the creepy line at the minute ten. Carmilla slept with a small frown and a closed fist, and Laura found it hard to look away.

At minute twenty Carmilla jolted awake. She looked concerned for a moment, Laura was sitting up and looking at her with her head titled, and saw that it was still early morning.

“Are you watching me sleep?”

“For about twenty minutes now.”

“Why?”

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“Your mother.”

Carmilla winced. “Not what I was hoping you’d say.”

“What were you hoping I’d say?” Laura asked with small smile.

Carmilla sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “Why were you thinking about my mother?”

“You were adopted?”

“At six.”

“She doesn’t seem the maternal type.”

“She’s not.”

“Then why did she adopt?”

Carmilla shrugged. “Maybe she thought she could be. She’s not terrible. Not going to win mom of the year anytime soon. But not terrible.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“You’re still on that?”

“It’s just…” Laura tried to find a way that didn’t sound whiny. “You could have told me.”

“Because we were such good friends?”

“And whose fault was that?” Laura asked with a smile.

Carmilla grinned. “Maybe mine.”

“Maybe.”

“Making up for it now though. Did you or did you not pass your test?”

“You’re taking credit for that?”

“I did go through about a hundred note cards for eight hours with minimal complaining.”

“Minimal?”

“Could have been worse.”

“Is it hard?”

“Not complaining all the time? A little bit.”

“Having your mother.”

Carmilla looked away. She lay back down and pulled the covers up. “Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “There’s a lot of pressure. And sometimes she mistakes intensity for support. But she does care, in her own way. We moved, after Ell, because it was too hard to live with the memories. She got me help.”

They brushed over Ell talk, Carmilla only mentioning it in passing, and Laura wasn’t going to pursue it until Carmilla did.

“I wasn’t…” It was too early for Carmilla to think coherently. “It was better than foster care. And mother isn’t the hug after a bad dream type, but my sister would at least tolerate me coming to her.”

“You have a sister?”

“And a brother.”

“Why don’t I know this?”

“You never asked.”

“What are they like?”

Carmilla shrugged. “Mattie’s adopted. Will’s not. They’re my siblings. Not really much else to say about them.” She grinned at how surprised Laura looked. “Relax, cutie. It’s not like we exactly shared life stories.”

“Only because I have nothing to share. Are there any other secrets I should know about?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call my family’s existence a secret.”

“Are you a jewel thief? Descended from royalty? Are you a vampire?”

Carmilla laughed and closed her eyes. “Go to sleep, cupcake. And stop watching me. It’s creepy.”

“How long do you think you can watch someone sleep before that happens?”

“I’d say ten minutes tops.”

Laura lay down. “Exactly what I thought.”

 //

It took Laura a moment to realise, in her sleep addled state, it was the muffled cries coming from Carmilla that woke her. She was up and across the room before she’d fully registered it, gripping Carmilla’s shoulder to pull her from whatever nightmare she was having.

“Hey there,” she said, once Carmilla’s eyes had opened. She was still shaking and her breathing ragged. “You’re okay.”

Carmilla forehead was sweaty and Laura reached to push her hair out of the way, but Carmilla had sat up and was shuffling back, forcing Laura’s hands to drop. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch Carmilla again.

“I’m sorry,” Carmilla gasped out. Laura shook her head. “Go back to sleep.”

“I don’t think I’m going to do that.”

“Please.”

Carmilla scrunched her eyes shut and let her head fall onto her knees. Laura took a chance and shuffled closer, running her fingers through Carmilla’s hair and along the back of her neck. Carmilla seemed to revel in it for moment, seeking the comfort, before she sat up and moved closer to the wall. Stung with the rejection, Laura sat back but didn’t move from Carmilla’s bed.

She waited while Carmilla regained normal breathing and looked up.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. Laura didn’t know if it was for waking her or pulling away. She said nothing and waited. “A nightmare. I’m okay.”

“I used to get nightmares.”

“Yeah?”

“About dolphins.” A small smile pulled at Carmilla’s lips, which encouraged Laura to keep talking. “With legs.”

“Dolphins with legs?”

“Long ones.”

“The dolphins or the legs?”

“Both.”

Carmilla smiled before quickly sobering up. “I have less dolphins,” she said quietly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Laura asked. Carmilla shook her head. “You can let yourself be comforted, you know. If it’s me I can get Laf or Perry or someone, but you don’t have to fight it.”

“If it’s you?” Carmilla started laughing quietly, leaning her head sideward against the wall. She closed her eyes. “If it’s you,” she said incredulously.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes.”

“I just mean we don’t really know each other and you keep saying we aren’t friends so if you need comfort I can get someone else I just don’t want to see you suffering.” A hand on Carmilla’s knee made her open her eyes and look at Laura.

“It isn’t you.”

“Oh.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Come here.” Laura moved so she was leaning against the headboard, pulling her knees up to mirror Carmilla’s position. “How did little Laura get to sleep after nightmares about the long legged dolphins?”

“First of all I was lying down.”

“You’re sitting on the covers.”

Laura sat up so Carmilla could lie and pull the covers over her. First she faced Laura, then quickly turned over so she faced the wall instead. Laura ignored the pang in her chest that felt a lot like rejection. She gently pulled Carmilla’s hair away from her neck and let her fingers brush there, tracing circles.

“My mom would do this. It would make me feel safe. Grounded.” She smiled at the memory. “Like the dolphins couldn’t get me.”

Carmilla snorted, but it wasn’t meant maliciously. Feeling brazen from such an early hour, Laura lay down so her front was to Carmilla’s back, letting her hand wonder and settle by Carmilla’s. She had stiffened, and Laura prepared herself for another knock of rejection in her chest, when she felt Carmilla relax against her.

“The dolphins can’t get you,” she whispered, close enough to Carmilla’s ear. “I won’t let them.”

 //

“I know you don’t need me to edit your essay,” Carmilla told Lafontaine, though she sat on her bed doing it anyway. “Want to tell me why you’re really here?”

“You’re better at the words then I am,” Laf said innocently.

“I’m understanding maybe sixty percent of what’s written here. And I’m ignoring any word that ends in osis.”

“So how are you these days?”

Carmilla shut the laptop and glared at Lafontaine. “You aren’t that good an actor.”

Laf sighed. “We thought we should check on you.”

“I hate it when you check on me.”

“You’re being uncharacteristically stable.”

“Stable? You’re complaining that I’m not running off every few weeks?”

“Of course not. It’s just. This time of year.” They carried on either though Carmilla’s clenched jaw and narrowed eyes told them to stop talking. “I’m your friend. I’m allowed to be worried.”

“About me being stable?”

Lafontaine figured they knew what the sudden change in Carmilla was due to. It didn’t stop them from being careful. Carmilla going to a roof with alcohol they could handle. But they couldn’t handle chasing her across the country again and not knowing what she’d find.

“I’m okay,” Carmilla said. She tried to relax. She knew the crap she put her friend through. “I know what time of year it is. But I’m okay.”

“Right.”

“Don’t use excuses to check up on me.”

“Because you’re so open and responsive?”

“I’m working on that. Why are you grinning?”

“Does this new found okayness and attempt to improve oneself have anything to do with a certain roommate?”

“I will fuck you up, Laf.”

Lafontaine laughed. “Embrace it.”

“I haven’t embraced anything in weeks. I really need to embrace something soon.”

“I bet Laura would be up for a bit of embracing.”

Carmilla shook her head. “We’ve only just got past the not hating me barrier. And we’re really close to the liking me as a person. Let’s not push it.”

“You have to tell someone if you’re not okay. If it’s not her then me. Okay?”

“Whatever.”

“Carmilla.”

“Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”

“I see you have long way to go with the open and responsiveness.”

“Did you want this essay edited or what?”

“May as well.”

 //

Laura could tell something was up in the past week. She saw it in the way Lafontaine and Perry interacted with Carmilla, carefully and regularly. She saw it in the way Carmilla was forcing herself not to get angry with them, was taking their concern with reassurances and barely contained grimaces.

But her suspicions were concerned when she came back to the dorms to find the Dean leaving their rooms. Laura froze, completely caught unawares. Though Carmilla was adopted, Laura could see a lot of her in the smirk the Dean sent her way.

“Miss Hollis.”

“Yes. Hi. Hello.”

“Just came to see my daughter.”

“Right.”

“I’m leaving now. You can stop shaking.”

She brushed past Laura, who let out a breath once she turned the corner. She hurried into their room, finding Carmilla on her bed with her knees pulled up against her chest. She glanced up when Laura came in.

“Hey, cupcake.” Her voice didn’t match her smile. She wore Ell’s hoodie, the sleeves pulled over her hands. “You look pale. Did you bump into my mother?”

“She never visits.” Carmilla shrugged. “What’s going on?”

Carmilla looked torn between brushing her off and confiding whatever it was. Finally she looked down at her knees.

“Ell died four years ago today.”

“Oh.”

“My mother was doing her annual duty of making sure I’m okay.”

The eggshells everyone has been on for the past week made sense. A small part of Laura was hurt no one told her this. “Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, one Carmilla had no doubt been asked for the past four years, but she still locked eyes with Laura and smiled.

“You can come in, you know.” Carmilla avoided the question. Laura walked in slowly. In truth she wanted to sit next to Carmilla, bundle her into a hug and make everything go away. She wasn’t sure how well that would be received.

She sat on her own bed, mimicking Carmilla’s position and pulled her knees up. Carmilla tugged uncomfortable at the hoodie.

“I know it’s morbid,” she said, “Keeping this. But I stole it and refused to give it back. And I couldn’t give it away.”

“At home we have a mirror.” Laura was never sure if talking about herself in these situations was the best thing to do. But Carmilla always looked up expectantly to listen. “It’s shaped like an owl. We all hate it. But it was my grandads, and he left it to my mum when he died. She thinks he did it because he knew we hated it. His final practical joke. It hangs in the hallway and we’ll never get rid of it. I know it’s not the same thing. But I get holding onto something because it reminds you of something special.”

Carmilla leant her chin on her knees and closed her eyes. “There was robbery.” She spoke without opening them. “Ell had gone to the shop to buy some drinks. My mother was out and we were going to have some friends round. She was the only one who had realistic fake id and looked old enough. There was a robbery, and she got caught up in it, and was shot. She died in hospital a few days later.”

“What was she like?” Laura asked quietly.

A sad smile broke out over Carmilla’s face. “Kind. But not in an altruistic way. But kind. Smug.” She opened her eyes and looked at Laura. She chose to ignore that she had tears in her eyes. “More than me.”

“No way.”

“I was the modest one.” Carmilla laughed. “Played hockey. Terrible at it. I still don’t know how she made the team.  Her family wanted her to be artist, but she wanted to be a doctor.”

“Usually goes the other way around.”

Carmilla nodded. “They wanted me to stick around, after. They were always nice to me. But it was too hard. I grew up with her in that town, I loved her in that town, there was no way for me to live with her not being there. So my mother took us away.”

“I’m so sorry that you lost that life.”

“It goes on though, right. At least it’s meant to.” Carmilla did all she could to ignore that Laura was now almost crying. She leant her head back against her knees so she didn’t have to see it.

The bed next to her suddenly dipped and Laura was pulling her into her arms. So far Carmilla automatic reaction had been to pull away. She was already in deep, no need to make it worse. But Laura was warm and good and woke her after nightmares. She sunk into Laura’s embrace.

“I miss her,” Carmilla said quietly. “And I’m never going to not miss her. And sometimes I’m okay. Sometimes it hurts too much. And I feel guilty for not moving on. Because she’d want me to move on. And then I feel guilty for how I do move on, because I know she wouldn’t want to do the things I do. And then I feel stupid because I’m afraid of disappointing a ghost.”

“That’s not stupid.” Laura promised.

“We were going to be happy. But we were going to be happy somewhere else. And any happiness I find here is going to come because Ell looked older than me and we decided to have a party.”

Carmilla had curled into Laura. Laura nudged her hair out of the way and gently rubbed the back of her neck.

“You can’t think like that,” she said quietly. “You can’t stop yourself from being happy. If it was the other way around, if you had been the one to…” The thought of Carmilla not being around caused Laura’s throat to clog, and the words refused to be spoken. “If it was you, you wouldn’t begrudge Ell any happiness she found, right?”

“Not for a second.” Her voice was muffled by her being pressed into Laura’s neck. Laura held her tighter.

“Any happiness you find is going to be different from what you thought you would have. But that’s not a bad thing. It doesn’t make it bad or make you a bad person.” Carmilla was still curled into her and crying silently. “Am I saying the right thing here?”

Carmilla laughed and lifted her head. She looked at Laura for a moment before resting their foreheads together. “You’re going great.”

“Lots of people don’t get to be happy.” Laura went back to stroking the back of Carmilla’s neck. “If you can be one of the lucky ones then you take it.”

Carmilla looked torn between saying something or staying silent for a moment. She opened her mouth as though to speak, before shutting it again and lowering her head back into Laura’s neck. Laura fought the disappointment in her chest.

 //

Carmilla glared at the bag of Laura’s things, packed and ready to go home for Christmas, and turned her glare to Laura when she called her name.

“What?”

“I asked if you wanted takeout.”

“Sure.”

Laura watched her for a moment. She kicked a stray shoe from out of the way to get her computer, yanking a menu from the corkboard and sunk back down onto the bed. A small smile broke out on Laura’s face.

“You’re going to miss me.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s why you’re being all huffy.”

“Huffy?”

“You’re going to miss me.” Laura’s grin increased when she repeated it.

Carmilla scoffed as she opened her computer. The bed bounced when Laura jumped down next to her. She jammed her in the ribs playfully.

“It’s okay. I’ll miss you too.”

“Whatever.”

“You could visit.”

“Mother has many festive plans organised. Do you know how many company parties I have to attend?”

“Yes. Six. You’ve said.” Laura lay back and threw her feet over Carmilla’s legs, causing her to move the laptop out of the way. “What are you ordering?”

“Pizza. Extra mushrooms.”

“I hate mushrooms.”

“Well I’m feeling huffy.”

“I could visit.”

“Too far. And you want to spend as much time with your dad as possible.”

Laura let out a sigh. “It’s only a month.”

“And nine days,” Carmilla said. “But who’s counting.”

Laura nudged her with her foot. “You have a phone.”

“I’m not very good at staying in contact with people.”

“Well learn to be. And don’t order mushrooms.”

“I got sweetcorn instead.”

“You are so going to miss me.”

 //

The dorm was empty and boring. Laura had flown home, Lafontaine was with their parents and Perry’s on some holiday, and Carmilla was stuck on her own. She had been invited to both, but wasn’t ready for family bonding and party games.

Her mother’s house was nearby and Carmilla found herself spending time there in an effort to ignore the boredom.

Three business parties in and she was tired of being the Karnstein representative. Will was absent and Mattie had her own life, so Carmilla was the jewel of the family.

She looked in the mirror, at another dress ready for another party, and felt the familiar wave of emotions. Sadness at Ell being absent, the rush that came with the thought of Laura, and the crushing guilt that followed.

“Easy there, sis.” Mattie was leaving against the doorway, dressed impeccably as always. “Think any harder and you’ll crack the mirror.”

“I really don’t want to be here.”

Mattie snorted. “Nor do I. But we owe it. Or so I’ve heard.”

Carmilla just grunted in response. She ran her hand through her hair, annoyed that she even had to care whether it was curly enough, or just plain wild. She caught Mattie’s eye, watching her in the mirror.

“What?”

“What’s gotten you so wound up?”

“I’m not wound up.”

“You look two bad comments away from a fist fight.”

“This is my party face.”

She turned from the mirror and Mattie and looked at her shoes.

“Do they match my dress?” she asked mockingly.

“This is more than the party.”

“So perceptive.”

“You use sarcasm as a defence mechanism.”

Carmilla barked out a laugh and Mattie grinned. The same line had been used by multiple councillors multiple times.

“I’m going to have that on my tombstone.”

“What’s really wrong?”

Carmilla sighed and turned to face her sister. “I think I could, possible, be in love with someone. Which is ridiculous, because we’re not even together and she doesn’t like me half the time and I know what in love feels like and it doesn’t feel like that. It’s a different kind of in love. But I’m pretty sure it’s in love. And it’s not fair because I was supposed to be in love with one person and that got derailed so now I’m left with this other in love. Am I making sense?”

“You’d have lost other people but I’m fine.”

“And I don’t know what to do.” Crying would ruin both Carmilla’s makeup and her image, so she made sure that didn’t happen. Mattie watched for a moment longer to see if she would speak.

“Are you asking my advice?”

“Might as well.”

“Does she love you?”

Carmilla shook her head. “No.”

“Do you think she could?”

It took a long moment for Carmilla to answer. “Yes.”

“Then I think that you should be in love. And you should go for it. And if anyone can charm a girl into falling in love with them it’s you.”

“Since when were you the hopeful one?”

“Since I spent the last four years watching you be sad. Now if I get to spend even a portion of that time watching you be happy I will be as hopeful as you need me to be.”

 //

Laura tried to ignore the prickle of hurt. Carmilla had warned her that she wasn’t good with contact, but that hadn’t stopped Laura from trying. Now three weeks of unanswered texts later and she was starting to feel rejected.

Her dad found her in her room, staring at the text that had been read and not replied to.

“Everything okay, pumpkin?” he asked, sitting on the bed next to her. “Still not answering?”

Laura had told him about Carmilla a week earlier when she had frustratedly slammed a mug down, shattering it. Explaining that the roommate she had spent a great portion of her time complaining about had actually turned into one of Laura’s favourite people had taken a while. It had taken a three minute speech on all of Carmilla’s attributes and her father’s raised eyebrow for everything to finally click for Laura.

“I have feelings for her,” she had proclaimed.

Her dad had nodded. “I would say so.”

Now Laura didn’t know what she wanted to say but she wanted to say it to Carmilla.

“You know,” her dad said conversationally, as the sounds of their family downstairs trickled up. “You could ring her.”

“Phones still do that?”

“A little old fashioned, I know.”

“I don’t know if she’ll pick up.”

“Then where’s the harm?”

The harm was in if Carmilla did pick up and Laura didn’t know what to say. But she missed the sad girl who didn’t seem to be so sad anymore.

Her dad put his arm around her and pulled her close. He was wary about the girl who had caused his daughter so much anguish for months, but it was hard to argue with someone when they had compiled an extensive list of the most wonderful things about her.

“You’ll figure it out,” he promised her. “Whatever it is.”

 //

Laura lay on her bed with her eyes closed, secretly praying the ringing would go by unanswered. She had no such luck.

“I really need to explain time zones to you.” Carmilla’s voice sounded croaky.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

There was a scuffle on the other end of the line and a long pause. “What?”

“A date. Two people. An activity. Sometimes physical displays of affection, depending on how well it goes.”

“What?”

“You’re going to give me a complex if you keep sounding like I suggested we go for colonoscopies together.”

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“Yes.”

“Over the phone.”

“Well you weren’t answering your texts.”

“None of them mentioned a date.”

“They might have if you’d answered your texts.”

“Why?”

“Because you have a crush on me.”

Carmilla spluttered. “I don’t… That’s not… I have never in my life…” Laura started grin, the weight on her chest that she hadn’t even associated with Carmilla’s absence started to lighten. “Did Lafontaine tell you?”

“No.”

“Then how did you know.”

“You’re not exactly subtle.”

“You want to go on a date?” Carmilla clarified.

“Yes.”

“With me there?”

“Preferable.” Laura’s confidence started to wain as Carmilla was silent for another moment. “Unless I’ve read it wrong…”

“Nope.” Carmilla cut her off quickly. “Pretty spot on reading. I just didn’t expect to be asked out by you at five in the morning.”

“It’s not five in the morning here.”

“I would very much like to go on a date with you, cupcake.”

Laura sighed in relief. “Good.”

 //

Betty choked on her drink when Laura told her, and demanded she repeated herself.

“I said I asked Carmilla on a date.”

“That’s what I thought you said. When?”

“Over the holiday.”

“By text?”

“Did you know that you can phone people?”

“I always thought that was a myth, like carrier pigeons.”

“I haven’t seen her yet. She’s coming back Monday.”

“I knew you always liked her.”

Laura snorted. “I did not always like her. That’s quite a recent thing.”

“What changed?”

“She stopped being as ass and started being a normal human.”

“I know I like that in a person.”

“The world has been unfairly cruel to her and I was thinking, if I can bring even a bit of the softness and goodness she deserves then what’s stopping me. I mean, I was pretty confident she’d say yes.”

“And here I thought you were the only person who didn’t knew she has a crush on you.”

“She’s nothing like I’d imagined the girl I met at university would be like. But she’s just so good.”

“Plus she’s insanely hot.”

Laura grinned. “Yeah. That too.”

“So when are you going?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t discuss details.”

“What are you going to do?” Betty shook her head when Laura shrugged. “Well you don’t just take Carmilla Karnstein to movie and dinner. She can get that from any number of girls.”

“Wow thanks for the confidence boost.”

“You need to plan something. And if there’s one thing I know Laura Hollis can do, its plan something.”

 //

Perry handed Laura a leaflet on fire safety, and she began to rethink her plan of asking Lafontaine to help with the date she’d planned. They’d looked so happy when Laura had told them, and started rattling off a list of things Carmilla liked. She’d settled on fireworks, which had prompted Laf to promise to create the best firework show anyone had ever seen.

“Will I need this?” Laura asked them as Perry went to hand out more leaflets.

“I think it’s best to be prepared for the very small yet very real chance that this becomes less Fourth of July and more Manhattan Project.”

“They might explode?”

“That’s what fireworks are supposed to do.”

“Yes, but preferable in the air.”

Laf waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry. She’ll love them. Now, do I have to do the best friend speech?”

“Do you want to?”

“I have been jotting down a few notes. I can be very creative with a scalpel. Plus I think Perry could scrub a crime scene better than any trained killer.”

Laura smiled despite the vague threats. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

“I know she’s difficult. But she likes you.”

“I like her.”

“I know you do.”

Laf punched her shoulder affectionately. Seeing Lafontaine’s smile and the sudden thought that tomorrow night she would be going on a date with Carmilla caused a wave of nerves that made Laura nauseous. Laf must have noticed this, because they gripped Laura’s shoulder.

“Look, don’t tell her I said this, but she really does like you. Don’t be nervous, okay.”

“What if I don’t measure up? She could date any girl she wants.”

Lafontaine laughed. “She really couldn’t. But even if she could I think she’d choose you.” Laura nodded but still wasn’t convinced. “Laura, Carmilla is edging closer to the border of happiness. And that’s only because the two of you have the odd conversation and she helps you with your homework. I know it seems like a lot of pressure to live up to that, but you’re more than anything Carmilla could have bargained for. Just try and have fun, okay.”

“Okay.”

“And look on the bright side. If the fireworks do blow up on the ground it won’t be an awkward date for very long.”

“God I hope you’re joking.”

 //

“It was a good date.”

“You said.”

“A really good date.”

“I know. You kissed when the fireworks went off. You chivalrously slept in the same bed but didn’t feel her up.”

“And now I’ve fucked it up.”

“Yeah,” Lafontaine agreed. “You have.”

Carmilla had been happy. She had been sincerely happy on her date with Laura. Then she had to be caught at a party with a girl draped over her, and Laura seeing before she had chance to push the girl away. Carmilla had gone to find Laura back at the dorm room, but had been locked out. Arriving at Lafontaine’s hadn’t brought the sympathy Carmilla had been hoping for.

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

“For the past six months Laura has watched you move through girl after girl. You can’t blame her for being insecure when she finds one on your lap two nights after your first date.”

“I was going to push her off.”

“But you didn’t. Not quick enough.”

“I could do without the anger.”

Lafontaine closed their eyes. “I’m not angry. I’m just frustrated. I have to hear about this crush for months and now this happens.”

“I’m sorry this had been such a burden for you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“But Laura doesn’t know that.”

“I would explain if she’d let me.”

“Imagine it from her point of view.”

“I love her, I’m not going to fuck it up like that.”

Lafontaine froze with whatever they were going to say next. As Carmilla’s brain caught up to what she said she paled.

“If you could not repeat that, that’d be swell.”

“You love her?”

“What did I just say?”

“Carmilla.”

Carmilla sighed. “I think so, yes.”

“Then find a way to talk to her. Get through to her.”

“You look happy about this.”

“You’re in love. Why don’t you?”

“You know why.”

“Carmilla.”

“Look, I know. I’ve had the speech many times. Can’t betray a ghost. I deserve to live my life. Happiness isn’t a one time deal. I’ll get there. I just need some time.”

“And to talk to Laura.”

“Yeah,” Carmilla sighed. “That too.”

 //

Carmilla knocked on the door. She leant her head against it in frustration when there was no answer. “You know I have a key, don’t you,” she called in.

“And I would advise not to use it because I don’t want to talk to you.”

Carmilla ignored that advice. When she entered Laura was leaning against the wall with her knees pulled up. She looked like she’d been crying, and Carmilla felt a pang in her chest that it was because of her.

“Laura,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of her own bed. “What you saw was nothing. Nothing was going to happen. Nothing would ever happen.”

“It did though. Frequently.”

“And you know this. I’m not hiding that from you. If it’s a problem then you should have told me earlier.”

“What you did in the past doesn’t matter. It’s what you do now.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“So you think I’m overreacting?”

Carmilla did. And should probably not say that, but didn’t like being accused. “Yes.”

Laura’s expression flickered between shocked and hurt. “You could have any number of those girls.”

Carmilla couldn’t help but laugh. “No, Laura, I couldn’t. Those girls want one thing from me, and it was fine when it was the thing I wanted from them. But it’s not anymore. The only person I want is you.” Laura’s expression became more hurt. “Not for that. I mean. Of course I want you for that, but not just for that. Hang on.”

Slowly, a small smile crept up as Laura watched Carmilla struggle. “Do you need a pen?”

“No, I’ve got this. I want to both screw you and hold your hand whilst watching fireworks. How’s that?”

“I don’t think Shakespeare could have said it better.”

Carmilla grinned. She quickly sobered up and silence drifted between them. “There’s always going to be the girls around us. But that doesn’t mean anything for you. Or for us. I am extremely fond of you, and just you.”

“Yeah?” Laura grinned again. She stood and walked towards Carmilla, who shuffled back and rested her hands on Laura’s thighs when she straddled her.

“Yeah.”

Laura kissed her, and they fell back onto the bed. In days or weeks or maybe months, Carmilla would eventually tell her the girl hovering above her that she loved her. But for now she was content to let the little piece of happiness that was creeping into her heart grow.


End file.
